


the magic that you do

by INMH



Series: Merry Month of Masturbation Fills (2018) [29]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Drama, Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Object Insertion, Object Penetration, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-10 02:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14728233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: “Anything in the room goes, Pratt. Choose wisely.”





	the magic that you do

“Pick.”  
  
Pratt swallowed, looked around the room. “Anything?”  
  
Jacob’s smile was feral. “Don’t be a smartass and say ‘the whole desk’, Pratt. I’ll try, just to make you regret it.” He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “Don’t _rush it_ , Deputy. Get a feel for the room! Look at your options!”  
  
Slowly, hesitantly, Pratt circled the room, looking over the items available to him. Nothing stood out as feasible for what Jacob had in mind- nothing that wouldn’t leave him permanently internally damaged, that was. As it was, Jacob’s quarters were fairly Spartan and there wasn’t that much to look over, so he ran out of options quickly and slowly came to stand before Jacob.  
  
Pratt was quiet for a moment, uncertain, and Jacob did not speak. Eventually, however, Pratt finally landed on something that could work- really, the only thing that would work for this.  
  
“The hilt of your knife.”  
  
Jacob’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? That’s what you’re going with?”  
  
Pratt sighed. “It’s the only thing that would work.”  
  
“Not the _only_ thing.” Pratt didn’t respond to that, just stood there clenching and unclenching his fingers for the length of time it took for Jacob to roll his eyes and say, “Fine.” In a few small, smooth motions, he pulled his knife from its hilt and flipped it so that he was holding it by the blade, offering the hilt to Pratt.  
  
The Deputy hesitantly reached out to take it, only for Jacob to playfully yank it back at the last second. “You understand, of course,” He said in that smooth-as-silk voice of his, “That if you try to stab me, not only will that _not_ work, but it will end absolutely _horribly_ for you, right?”  
  
Pratt shuddered deeply. “Yeah, yeah, I kind of figured that.”  
  
“I sure hope you did,” Jacob said with a dry, saccharine tone. “Because I really like you, Staci, and it would be a shame if I had to feed you to the wolves.”  
  
It would have been less threatening if Jacob did not actually have wolves in the yard outside to throw Pratt to.  
  
Pratt reached out again, and this time Jacob let him take the knife. Now that he had it in his hands, it was obviously the best choice for the task; the hilt was a decent size, but not enough to kill him the way some of the other ‘options’ in the room might have. The blade was razor-sharp- of course, because Jacob would have it no other way. Pratt had to pull a polishing cloth from the desk and wrap it around the blade so that he would be able to use the hilt; it wasn’t perfect, but it would do.  
  
There had been a time when exposing himself to Jacob had been embarrassing, humiliating even. Now, though, Pratt did it with perfunctory speed, undoing his belt and pushing his pants down, moving to kneel on the bed. Jacob pulled up a chair so that his knees were brushing the thin mattress. He didn’t pull down his jeans, but his palm came to rest almost casually over the (for now) only barely-noticeable bulge there. “Showtime, Peaches.”  
  
Pratt had a moment of bravery. “Could you… Could you _please_ not call me that? All I can think of is Miss Mable’s tame cougar when you call me that. It’s weird.”  
  
Jacob burst out in surprisingly genuine laughter. “What would you like me to call you, then?”  
  
Pratt blushed, uncertain in the face of an amused, non-malicious Jacob, and shrugged. “I don’t know. Just- not that.”  
  
“Well alright then, Snuggle Muffin, I will endeavor to call you _anything_ but that.”  
  
Pratt’s life had gone down the tubes in so many ways since being captured by Eden’s Gate, and nothing that Jacob said should have been able to bring a smile to his face, but that stupid pet name did. It was rare that Jacob made a joke that wasn’t at Pratt’s expense. It made the slide of the hilt into him a little more bearable, maybe because for once Jacob wasn’t looking at him in that weirdly predatory way of his.  
  
“How’s it feel?” Jacob asked, lazily groping himself through his pants.  
  
Pratt hesitated, catching his breath. It really didn’t feel that bad, but he feigned a wince anyway for Jacob’s benefit. “It’s, uh, it’s big. Pretty big.” Thankfully the hilt was made of smooth, polished wood- Jacob cared for his weapons like nothing else- rather than something metal or rubber with a ribbed grip. That would have been fine with lubrication, but Pratt was doing this dry and it made all the difference. Mindful of the fact that this was a knife that could very seriously harm him if he wasn’t careful, Pratt moved slowly; the hilt wasn’t very long, and so the stimulation he received from it was minimal. He almost found himself eager for Jacob’s cock.  
  
“What’s wrong, Sugar? You’re not looking very randy.”  
  
“It’s, uh, not going in very deep,” Pratt confessed, fully aware that doing so could lead to Jacob picking something else in the room at random as a substitute. “Not getting much out of it, to be honest.” He met Jacob’s eyes and shuddered deeply when he saw the fire in them.  
  
“Aw…” Jacob crooned, slowly rising out of the chair and languidly undoing his belt. “Well that’s just no _fun_. Think you’re stretched enough?”  
  
“Thereabouts,” Pratt sighed, carefully slipping the hilt of the knife out of him and setting it gingerly on the chair. He knew the routine well enough by now that once Jacob’s cock was free, he didn’t even wait; Pratt moved forward and took it into his mouth, forcing a strained sound from Jacob.  
  
“ _Fuck,_ fuck, Pratt, attaboy, you know what to do, don’t you?” Jacob hissed, twining his fingers in Pratt’s hair and tugging firmly. “You got a great mouth, you know that? You suck cock so good. You do that a lot, before you ended up here? That how you got your job?”  
  
Pratt exhaled sharply through his nose, and it was only weeks of dealing with Jacob and seeing how he dealt with aggression that kept him from flipping out. Whitehorse had been like a father to Pratt since he’d joined the Sheriff’s Department, and the implication that he’d done anything sexual with him, even in passing, made him want to puke. But if he let on that the idea bothered him, Jacob would- much like with the ‘Peaches’ thing- make a much bigger deal out of it than he’d had before. Only this time, it wouldn’t be funny.  
  
Instead, Pratt pulled off and looked up at Jacob pointedly. “Are you going to fuck me or what?” He grunted, hoping to cut off any further mention of his old life.  
  
Jacob laughed again; this time it was a darker kind. “You little _cockslut,_ Pratt _._ Well, ask and you shall receive.” He grabbed Pratt, flipped him onto his knees, and jerked his thighs apart. He entered in one sharp thrust, and Pratt cried out, clutching at the sheets with one hand and reaching back to grab at Jacob hip with the other. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, even better than your fucking _mouth_ , Pratt.”  
  
“I-” Pratt howled as Jacob gave another hard thrust. The knife-hilt had done more to prepare him than he’d realized, and Jacob was sliding easily in and out. Pratt propped himself up on his elbows, face pressing into the pillow with every thrust. He grunted roughly when Jacob’s cock brushed his prostate, trying to spread his legs wider and failing. “God, _fuck!_ ”  
  
Jacob slapped his ass. “Careful, _Peaches,_ ” He cooed. “Don’t get into the habit of taking God’s name in vain around here. Gets under peoples’ skin.”  
  
“S-Sorry,” Pratt stuttered, mouth falling open as the pleasure started to build.  
  
“Don’t apologize to me, Pratt,” Jacob snorted, “I don’t give a-”  
  
“ _-fuck!_ ” Pratt yelped, and came onto the sheets below.  
  
“I should rub your nose in that,” Jacob growled, snapping his hips forward more aggressively before coming a minute later.  
  
Pratt’s legs trembled, and when Jacob pulled out he rolled onto his side to avoid the soiled part of the bed. Jacob sat back on his knees, running a hand through his hair. “Goddamn, Pratt,” He rumbled, patting Pratt’s leg. “You’re a good fuck.”  
  
“I thought blasphemy was a bad idea here,” Pratt mumbled, wiping some sweat from his forehead.  
  
“Yeah, let’s see if Joseph wants to get on my ass for it,” Jacob chuckled, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. That Jacob didn’t seem to have any particular reverence for Joseph when everyone else in Eden’s Gate was so insanely devoted to him was bizarre; but then, Jacob probably had memories of a time when Joseph wasn’t anyone to be afraid of. He gave Pratt’s ass a light slap. “Get the sheets off the bed. I’m gonna start the shower going for us.”  
  
Pratt’s eyes had been shut, and they snapped open in surprise. _Us?_ Jacob had never done that before.

“Alright,” he muttered, bemused, as Jacob stood up and headed towards the bathroom.  
  
_First time for everything, I guess._  
  
Given how the night had started, he could hardly call it the weirdest thing he’d ever done.   
   
-End


End file.
